


The Pulsing Rush of Longing

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:45:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s what Blaine does, it’s what Blaine does with Kurt, and it stops being different and becomes absolutely normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pulsing Rush of Longing

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the same verse as [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/838589).
> 
> Written as a commission, posted with permission.

Kurt isn’t used to being touched. At least, he’s not used to being touched by anyone outside of his family. Finn “affectionately” shoves him, Carole squeezes his shoulder goodbye, and then there’s his dad, who has never been afraid to give Kurt a hug when he needs one. Kurt has adjusted to the fact that other people don’t touch him, has grown up in his personal space bubble never really expecting anyone to breech it.

So when he meets Blaine, their very first day at NYU, and is given a friendly hug, it’s…  _Different_.  _Blaine_  is different. Blaine seems to notice that Kurt’s bubble is there, and hovers just outside of it, pushing against it sometimes and startling the breath right out of Kurt’s lungs.

He’s not afraid of Kurt—and okay, people were never really  _afraid_  of him, but it’s easier to think  _afraid_  rather than  _disgusted_ —and so, Blaine touches. After Kurt had gone stock-still in their first hug, Blaine backs off, but there are still the brushes of contact: Blaine nudging him on their way to get dinner, Blaine leaning in too close in the one lecture they share so that his breath brushes Kurt’s ear, Blaine trying to tickle him because he won’t share the cookies Carole sent in a care package.

Kurt isn’t even sure if Blaine is conscious of it or not, if he  _knows_  what he’s doing, and soon Kurt doesn’t think much of it either. When Blaine starts squeezing his shoulder, or bumping their knees, or slinging his arm around Kurt, Kurt just thinks,  _Blaine_. Because it’s what Blaine does, it’s what Blaine does with  _Kurt_ , and it stops being  _different_  and becomes absolutely normal.

How precariously balanced their normal is, though, isn’t something Kurt thinks about, until the night Blaine comes back to their dorm brandishing  _Troy_.

“No,” Kurt says, before Blaine can even ask.

“But we’re reading  _The Iliad_  in my Greek Myth class right now,” Blaine whines, already grabbing his laptop. “And I know you haven’t seen it.”

“Because I haven’t  _wanted_  to see it,” Kurt replies simply, looking away from Blaine’s pouting face and down at the magazine he’d been flipping through.

“But Orlando Bloom,” Blaine argues, knees knocking against Kurt’s bed. “And Eric Bana.  _Brad Pitt_ , Kurt.”

Kurt bites his lip to keep his grin down, staring at an article that he hasn’t read a word of since Blaine walked through the door.

“Those are very convincing arguments,” Kurt comments, disinterestedly, flipping the page. “I  _suppose_ —”

“Yes!” Blaine’s already hopping onto the bed beside him, and Kurt full out laughs at his enthusiasm.

“Shoes,” he warns, and Blaine dutifully kicks them off by the heel. They watch movies together all the time—they’d talked about getting a TV, once, but they both have laptops and they’d rather save the money for something more useful (like  _Wicked_  tickets). So when Blaine is snug up against his side, their thighs pressed together, it only makes Kurt’s heart beat a bit more staccato than usual—it’s  _normal_.

“So what exactly is this movie about?” He asks, as Blaine props the laptop between them and slips the DVD in. Blaine looks over at him, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

“You’ve never read  _The Iliad_?”

Kurt bristles.

“I’m not taking Greek Myth,” he replies, defensively.

“No, but like. In high school?”

“Not everyone went to private school, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt leans back against the wall, and Blaine leans back with him, their arms pressed together. “Lima isn’t really a place where people have an interest in Homer.”

“You should take Greek Myth next semester.” The DVD menu pops up, and Kurt can at least appreciate the costuming. And Brad Pitt’s calves. “But only if Reynolds is teaching it, he’s  _amazing_.”

“Oh yes, because a degree in musical theater  _absolutely_  requires a class on greek mythology.”

“Don’t get me started on the importance of the Greek tragedy, or we’ll never finish this movie at a reasonable time.”

Kurt suddenly feels a sense of dread at agreeing so easily.

“Why? How long is it?” He looks suspiciously at Blaine, who just hits play. “ _Blaine_.”

“I should have turned off the lights.”

“ _Blaine_.”

“Shhh, it’s starting.” A beat, and then randomly, “Um, a lot of people die.”

“Oh,  _fantastic_.”

It’s a long movie. There’s a lot of fighting ( _yawn_ ), and a lot of people do, in fact, die. They migrate closer, shifting around, slouching against the wall until Blaine’s arm finds it’s way around Kurt’s waist and Kurt’s arm ends up tucked around Blaine’s neck. They whisper—Blaine tells Kurt about the mythology that the movie conveniently forgets, and Kurt gushes over Andromache’s and Helen’s dresses (and Kurt may or may not want his own golden laurels)—and giggle, like they always do, comfortable and relaxed and it’s not so boring with Blaine there providing commentary.

It isn’t until the part with the horse (and Kurt knew the trope, has referenced it before, but it’s nice to have some context), when Kurt turns to say something to Blaine that he notices he’s completely asleep. His head has been pressed against Kurt’s shoulder for over half the movie, and it happens often when they watch movies, but  _this_ —Blaine’s never fallen asleep on him before.

Blaine takes naps, and he’s normally up later and sleeps longer than Kurt, but Kurt doesn’t  _watch_  him sleep or anything. But now he can see Blaine’s face lax, lips slightly parted, eyelashes long and still against his cheeks. Kurt knows that Blaine is beautiful, the sort of knowledge that had shocked him repeatedly those first couple weeks and then faded to something he just  _knew_  like his own name. But this is different, a vulnerable kind of beauty, and Kurt finds himself tilting his head just to be  _closer_.

He could turn off the movie. He could slide Blaine’s laptop to the floor and then lie them down, spread on his too-small bed, and  _hold_  Blaine close like he started doing unintentionally. God, they’re  _cuddling_ , and how is it that Kurt never thought of it that way before?

Falling asleep is innocent, Kurt could easily fall asleep against Blaine’s warmth, and it could just be something that happened, right? Even if the idea of it makes Kurt’s breath come a little quicker, even if he has the urge to brush his lips against Blaine’s hair, his temple, his cheek, his  _mouth_ —

No.

Kurt closes his eyes, breathes deep, and then pauses the movie. No, they’re just friends, and there are some lines that they shouldn’t cross—that Kurt  _can’t_  cross, because he won’t be able to come back again.

He jostles Blaine lightly, until he’s lifting his groggy head and blinking up at Kurt.

“Hey, you fell asleep,” he says gently, and Blaine rubs at his eyes, sitting up and pressing at what must be an uncomfortable kink in his neck.

“Sorry.” Blaine drags a hand over his face. “I didn’t drool on you, did I?”

“If you did, you’re paying my dry cleaning bill,” Kurt jokes, his smile a little tense and his heart still a little fluttery. Things are better this way—aren’t they?


End file.
